James Potter Must Die
by EmeraldEyez1728
Summary: In which Sirius Black does not believe in love and throws books at people. Sirius/Remus.


**A/N: First attempt at a slash fic, I hope I don't utterly disgrace myself haha. Anywhore, this was a gift for my friend Izzie at a fandom exchange where we had to write something based off a movie title--the first thing that popped up in my DVD cabinet was 'Romeo Must Die' so here's the finish product of this whole madness.**

**James Potter Must Die**

"What should I do, guys? What should I do to get her to notice me? She needs to notice me. Because she needs to go out with me. Because life should work out that way. Because we should have The Beautiful Children. Because that's how God intended it to be."

"Well, you could get her to notice you by reciting that utterly terrifying future plan," Sirius drawled. He was disgusted at this point by his pathetic friend's constant whining. So much so that he wasn't even able to enjoy the fact that he had the best armchair in the common room (positioned right next to the fire, but facing the window so the scenery was automatically there. Never mind the fact that he sat on a firstie in order to attain said chair.) It was irritating to realize, however, that James was ruining his chance at peace and relaxation. He rubbed the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache.

"The Beautiful Children?" Peter questioned from his place on the couch.

"Don't start…" Sirius pleaded, but no. James was already on a roll.

"Yes. The Beautiful Children. They'll have my messy hair and her smile and her eyes and my strong, male physique. I'll enter them in beauty pageants and they'd win!"

"Yes, as daughters they'd be lovely looking," Remus muttered without even looking up from his book.

"I'd do them," Sirius said dryly.

"Well see, that doesn't count because you'd do anything," Remus pointed out.

"That's not true," Sirius objected. "I wouldn't do Peter."

There was a pause and Peter looked at Sirius with a put-off expression painting his face. "You wouldn't do me?"

Sirius turned his head with a sigh. "We're not having this discussion again."

Peter crossed his arms and Remus closed his book, turning to Peter. "He upset you?"

"Well," Peter said with a frown, knitting his eyebrows together as the memory of that hurtful conversation overtook him. "It's not exactly what he _said_ it was just the way he _said it_."

"Well would you like your dress now or later, Peter?" Sirius asked with a slight edge to his tone. Between James' mooning over Lily and Peter acting like a woman again, he was going to go insane.

"Wouldn't really matter, would it? No matter how I look, you still wouldn't do me!" Peter snapped. "I'm going to bed."

"You do that…" Sirius watched Peter stand up indignantly. Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Not like I need to announce it to you. You wouldn't bother to make sure that I was alright anyway."

"Nope," Sirius bluntly admitted.

"Well…fine!" Peter turned on his heal and marched up the stairs, slamming the door to the sixth year boy's dorms.

The three remaining Marauders looked at each other indifferently. "Anyway," James started. Remus looked after Peter in a thoughtful manner.

"Perhaps you should go apologize," Remus remarked. Sirius looked insulted at the suggestion.

"I'm not going to apologize!" He exclaimed. "I told him this before. It's not my fault he doesn't bloody listen."

"Still, it was a hurtful remark," Remus explained calmly. "I suppose if you said you'd do everyone but me, I'd be a little affronted."

"I wouldn't say that, though," Sirius countered.

Pause. Both James and Remus raised eyebrows at Sirius simultaneously. Sirius looked at them blankly. "Because that would mean that I'd do Peter. Keep up, would you?"

"Regardless Peter—"

"We are NOT having this discussion!" Sirius shouted, about ready to pull his hair out. It was weird talking about which of his friends he would or would not sleep with willingly. It was weird letting the entire common room know that he'd rather sleep with Remus over Peter. It was weird considering sleeping with Remus in the first place. It was weird that he didn't think he would really mind it.

"Always knew the Marauders were a bit bent," a third year muttered to his friend, peering over at the group by the fire with an unsurprised look. The friend nodded and Sirius looked around for something to throw at them.

"You're right!" James agreed. "We're discussing Lily."

"We're not having _that_ discussion, either," Sirius said, threateningly. James ignored his tone and went on yet another rant, repeating variations of the same things, occasionally asking for advice on how to get her to fall in love with him so that they could grow old together and have The Beautiful Children (not necessarily in that order, but still.). Sirius looked around for something to throw at him.

"Fun as this has been, I think I'm going to go to bed," Sirius finally announced. "Peter has probably cried himself to sleep by now; I won't get bombarded by the queer questions he's bound to ask me in the morning."

James tilted his head and looked at his friend as Sirius got up. "You don't want to go to sleep. It's not three in the morning yet."

"Yes, but there are shockingly some things that can accomplish putting me into a stupor without time being a factor," Sirius said pointedly.

"If you don't stay here, I'm not giving you flea tonic anymore for a month."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"Watch me," James said easily.

For the next four hours, Sirius found out Lily Evans' middle name, favorite color, food, morning routine, specific socks that she wears on specific days and just how many hair clips she has and what occasions they are used for.

**X-X-X**

At around twelve at night, James had put Remus to sleep—apparently not even the bookworm werewolf could handle that much information in one night about such a useless topic. Sirius was drifting off and James finally realized that he was the only one fully awake enough to appreciate the essence that was Lily Evans.

"Night mates," he said softly and walked off to the dorms.

Remus began to lightly snore, the blanket that covered him falling slightly off the couch.

Sirius looked for something to throw at him, finding the book that Remus had previously buried his nose in.

He aimed and fired, hitting his target square in the head. Remus gave a startled grunt and cursed. "What the bloody hell is this about?" he demanded, holding up the offending book.

"James Potter must die," Sirius stated matter-of-factly. Remus rubbed sleep from his eyes and blinked a few times.

"What?" he asked, trying to make sense of Sirius' madness. He partially blamed it on the late hour, but to be frank, Sirius always came up with stuff like this.

"I could write a book on Lily Evans. I don't write books. I don't even read books. This must end. James Potter must die." The resolution rang out through the empty common room. Remus peered at Sirius.

"Be reasonable."

"Books!" Sirius emphasized. "Novels, even!"

"Sirius, I don't think this is necessary."

"_Encyclopedias_!"

"Sirius. He's your best mate. He's…a bit off his rocker but love makes people do crazy things," Remus theorized.

Sirius scoffed. "The boy isn't in love. There's no such thing as love. She hates his guts. How is that love?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe in love?"

"Nope." Sirius looked down, uncomfortable with the way that Remus was looking at him. "I really, really don't."

Remus continued to look at Sirius like that throughout the conversation and until they both fell asleep in the common room on their designated lounging choices.

**X-X-X**

The next morning, Sirius awoke fairly early and began planning James' demise. He had about thirteen failing plans laid out on the table in the common room before Remus woke. They were the first thing that caught Remus' eye and Remus turned to Sirius in shock.

"You can't _possibly_ be serious."

"My favorite is the one where I kill him with an umbrella," Sirius pushed plan number 7 forward.

"You Mary Poppins-ed him?" Remus looked at the plan in horror. "Sirius. He's in love with her."

"_No. Such. Thing._"

Remus sighed. There was no use arguing such a moot point with a more pressing matter at hand. "You actually want him to die? You realize that Lily will love you forever."

"No. Such. Thing." Sirius repeated with more conviction. "And I don't plan on actually killing him because who would buy my flea tonic? No, I just want to beat him with the umbrella until he sees the light."

"You mean the cynical telescope through which you view the world?" Remus asked quietly.

"That's the one," Sirius muttered distractedly. "Pass me that ruler? I have to do some measuring."

Remus peered over his shoulder. "A wrecking ball?"

"It's only going to hit the side of the tower and shower him with pieces of brick until he comes to his senses."

"Why can't you accept the fact that _maybe_ he just loves her?"

Sirius slammed his quill down. "Love _always_ ends badly. I don't care who you are. I don't care what you believe. Love is the worst thing in the world."

"That's not true," Remus countered. "You're just too pessimistic. If you ever enter a relationship with someone with that attitude, of course it's going to go south!"

"Yeah? Look at that Shakespeare guy's view. He was smart, that one. He knew what was up. He played with the characters and taught them a lesson!" Sirius shoved Remus' book at him. "Romeo and Juliet, are you a bloody idiot with this?"

Remus looked guiltily down at his copy. "No…" he said quietly, almost ashamed.

Sirius scoffed at the worn copy in Remus' hands. "They fall in love. They kill themselves because it sucks so much. And _those_ are the characters that people idolize when they talk about love. My parents love each other. They love Regulus. Too bad the lot of them have the most corrupt morals. I'm glad they don't love me. I'm glad nobody loves me! It hurts people worse than any sort of torture imaginable," Sirius took every single plan that he had laid out since six o'clock that morning and tossed in the fire. "Love. That's the most ridiculously two-faced concept I've ever come across. Because in the end, Romeo _always_ dies."

Remus looked down at his book. "You don't want anyone to love you?"

Sirius turned and faced him. "'The hell does it matter? Nobody does."

"You don't get it," Remus said, shaking his head. "It's not that people always fall in love and it ends up going to hell. The _right_ people have to fall in love."

Something in Sirius lurches at the conviction Remus put behind his quietly voiced words and a small longing that he had tried to stamp out throughout his entire speech overcame the attacker. He bit his tongue, trying to stand by words he tried to believe.

"Love is like God."

"I thought you believed in God."

"I do. That's why I know. You can't see it. You know it's there because you feel its wrath," Sirius explained.

"And goodness. You can feel it's goodness too," Remus objected, making more sense than Sirius, but Sirius' stubbornness outweighed it.

"I wouldn't know," Sirius said quietly.

Remus looked at Sirius for a long time. The same look he had given him last night. The same one that made something in Sirius uncomfortable and gave his stomach the ability to lurch. The same look that made his heart beat a bit faster from the intense scrutiny.

Sirius liked walls. Sirius didn't like people trying to look into the foundation he kept hidden. Sirius didn't like people trying to figure out why he didn't believe in love.

"You don't believe in it because you're scared that if you experience it, you'll be Romeo and helplessly fall to your own demise, right?" Remus summarized. Sirius nodded, not quite sure why hearing his own words thrown back at him felt so wrong.

"You're afraid to be like James. Like Romeo. Because you'll end up getting hurt?" Remus pressed. Sirius felt more and more uneasy upon hearing this, but he liked his walls. He willed the bricks to stay in place, even though Remus was shaking them in an unexpected way.

"You missed the story completely," Remus muttered. "He didn't die because Juliet hurt him. He died because he couldn't stand to live without her. And she died because of the same reason. She wasn't even conscious when he made that decision, but they were both so in love that the other didn't even need to explain their reasoning. You don't even realize how many people care about you. You don't realize how much you make them love you."

Sirius looked at the floor. "My own family doesn't even love me."

"I'm your family," Remus' quiet tone almost had the same power if he was shouting.

"Nobody loves me like Romeo loved that girl. Nobody loves me like James loves Lily."

There was a beat. A pause that could have either shattered or enforced everything that Sirius believed in and whatever lay beyond the miles of walls that Sirius kept up screamed for a simple sentence to be delivered from Remus' lips.

"I do."

Beyond that, everything was a blur. As Sirius' lips met Remus', an entire set of beliefs shattered every single wall that Sirius had built. A wall crashed that he had built when he was sixteen and moved out of his own house because of the love he didn't feel. Another wall was shattered from the times when he saw James repeatedly rant and rave about Lily and he felt like he would never find something so great—another person that would pursue him until the day he died. Another one demolished from the time he had to realize that his only brother would turn away from all reason and logic and family devotion that Sirius would have given him if he had only followed his example and stood up to his parents. They were all replaced with a warmth and goodness and… _love_ that Sirius had never felt and could never explain. The only way he would later describe it was that it was like God. He could only feel the warmth and compassion and it was so good that nothing tangible could ever measure up to it.

"Told you! The lot of them are bent!" The same third year exclaimed upon seeing Remus and Sirius that morning. Sirius separated from Remus, his face still only millimeters from its counterpart, his eyes still locked on the same ones that would never make him feel uncomfortable.

He felt for the worn copy of Shakespeare's play that had been placed on the table, no longer needing to look for anything in his life, and threw it at the boy.

"Read a book."


End file.
